When Angels fall
by Raevyn Blackthorn
Summary: Sherlock leaped to save his friends... and to save her. Moriarty only gave himself a fake gunshot wound to fool the detective. They grieved but no one expected the quiet one to have a deadly temper...or some family issues to work out. Moriarty messed up.
1. Blasphemy

Prologue:

~ _There is ringing in her ears, the tolling of distant bells. It fills her mind, fills the very air around her though only she can hear it, the mournful ringing of funeral bells_.~

Silence is dominate in the flat, unchallenged but for the soft snick of ammunition being loaded in to shining clips. She's been called out, not directly, but his death is a catalyst, it has sparked within her an endless hatred and crippling rage. All is still, except the cyclical count of ten.

~ _The frosty steel burns her skin. It's a sharp reminder of what has been done, and what she still must do. She can feel nothing else, only burning anger and frozen steel~_

The guns are icy against her skin, feeling as cold and cruel as her very soul must be, beneath the fire of her loathing. They are holstered and the shoulder, pressing just below her ribs. Her extra clips are packed where ever she could fit them. She can hear Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson try and talk her out of this insanity, finally breaking the pervading silence. Their cries are unheard , their pleading eyes that are still red with their shed tears do nothing but drive her further on. They were his friends and the need for justice burns brighter, they deserve a proper ending.

~ _Fire, Deep and consuming eats her from the inside gnawing at her like a dog chews its bone. A burning hurricane of voices that scream at her to hunt down the mad man who ruined her. If there ever had been a time when she'd had a heart, that heart was long gone, fueling the firestorm in her mind~_

Logically she knows that voice can't possibly be there, but she still hear him on the wind, crying out ' _Why me? Why did I have to die?"_ Deep in her ruined mind she asks herself the same question. That she has no answer only feeds her need for vengeance.

~ _She leaves everything behind. All she has will go to John if this ends badly. It doesn't mean much to her that she may die, the Hunt is calling and it promises revenge. She leaves behind a promise of her own, This monster will die~_

Only one person makes no attempt to stop her, not because he wants her to do this, no it's because he knows he cannot stop her. His ruffled blonde hair , dull blue eyes, and awful jumper show just how much John is hurting. It kills her just a little bit more, he's been more like her brother than her best friend. She gives him a tight hug and a soft peck on the cheek as she whispers to him a solemn swear that it will not be in vain. Her once lover stands behind John, a silent promise that he will watch over his brother's best friend while she hunts her prey. She moves swiftly away praying that she will see them again.

~ _Her quest is short and simple for all its inherent danger. He wanted to be found. It's nothing more than a game, the most dangerous game to be sure, but still just a game. And against this man she has never lost~_

Her quarry is both terrified and confident, desperate and excited. It means nothing to her. He has committed so many crimes, all equally unforgivable. He's hidden himself on the top floor with paltry amounts of guards in between them. He knows that it's come to an end, he is beyond saving, beyond even trying.

~ _He'd given her a choice, her life or theirs. It was a choice with a terrible price, but a choice none the less. She made her decision quickly, easily. She'd chosen them and it was a choice she'd make a thousand times over.~_

She stood before the heavy wooden doors behind wich lie her fate, her one purpose. Her final breaths would be taken in the room beyond. With a shaking breath, deep as her punctured lung would allow, she opened the doors and walked in ruining his every chance for escape.

~ _Her enemy stands before her, startled and surprise. She assumes he'd thought she'd take longer. She stands tall, bleeding on his nice persian rug, her lung punctured by her fractured ribs, her right leg nearly broken and stabbed once in the stomach. She begs John to forgive her, she had hoped to see them again. She knows now that she will not~_

Her injuries are only faintly painfull thanks to the adrinaline coursing through her blood, but she knows this is to be her final stand, her last night on earth. Determination guides her on, drives her ever forward. She will not rest until this monster of a man lies coldand unmoving on the ground. With the sharp snap of a round chambered she aims her gun and alerts him to her presence.

" I killed several people simply for trying what you have succeeded in doing, even your beloved Sebastion Moran. Every time you tried to kill Sherlock some one died. Tell me why you believed you would live through it, my dear brother."


	2. The Beginning of the End

It was a dark and dreary day outside, it gloomy nature pervading even indoors, as it poured rain down on anyone so foolish as to be out doors. The gloom even dampened the atmosphere in the labs of Saint Bart's hospital. John and Sherlock were examining a body, or well Sherlock was. John found himself worrying for the best friend who hadn't spoken to him in several days, not all together a strange thing , but something told him all was not well. He found himself mindlessly handing Sherlock his tools trying not to fret to much about the ominous feeling.

" John, what's bothering you,"Sherlock asked. His vision never strayed from what he was doing but his voice conveyed his concern.

" I have an odd feeling that something is wrong. Annan hasn't called in the last few days, and I'm a tad bit worried about her," John answered.

" Hmm was everything alright with Annan the last time she called," asked Sherlock as he cut into the heart of the victim.

" As far as I know. She seemed happy and healthy, gushing about her six month anniversary with her current boyfriend. Maybe I should call her later," John sighed.

" tell her to come by the flat. I've not seen her in a while. She is infinitely more tolerable than most," Sherlock hummed. He noted that the cause of death was a deep but narrow puncture wound to the heart . John nodded unknowing of the events that would follow that call.

Across town in a park , not to far from Baker street , Annan Brimm stood in shock, staring at the busy road covered from the rain by a nearly empty copse of trees. It had happened quickly , she'd been so happy only moments ago. She'd been smiling in his car, thinking them to be going out for dinner. She'd been listening to his deep voice, as he informed her that he had something important to tell her. Then it blurred, one second she'd been questioning what he would tell her and the next she'd watched as his sleek black BMW drove away taking with it her happiness and her heart. Her eyes were still glued to the heavy traffic her heart in ashes and slowly drowning in her tears.

" Mycroft," She whispered, "Mycroft I'm sorry. Mycroft please, I don't know what I did but I'm sorry. Please don't leave me." She knew he could not hear her but the deafening silence, pregnant with finality, was crushing her abused heart just that last bit more. She cried softly , her face glistening with both the pouring rain and her hidden tears. She was lost to her sadness for a single moment and an eternity, her endless weeping halted only by a kind woman who asked if she was alright.

Startled she shook her head sadly and tried to smile.

" I'll be okay, just got some very bad news," she whispered and stumbled away from the kind lady. She wandered aimlessly down street after street until she came to the familiar door of her flat. She let her self in and barely had a chance to lock her door before she collapsed. Her head caught the edge of her entertainment center and she was knocked unconscious laying across her living room carpet, bleeding lightly. She was still out when her phone began to ring and with no one to answer it the calls went unheeded.


	3. Fly free little bird

John looked down at his phone with a pensive stare. Now he was really worried. Annan's phone had rung for five minutes before it cut to voice mail. Sherlock had tried calling her as well with much the same result. They looked at each other for only a moment before they gathered their things and rushed from the lab to find a cab to take them to Annan's.

They arrived in record time, Sherlock having bribed the cabbies to drive faster with money. They raced up the front steps to her flat and knocked on the door with no answer.

" Annan, are you home," John called out, doing his best to keep the worry out of his voice. Silence was their only answer and Sherlock knocked again, more insistently.

" Annan Brimm, open this door or I shall be forced to pick the locks again," Sherlock barked. John was panicking now. Annan would never let it get far enough for Sherlock to break her locks again. He started peeking through her windows only to let out a sharp curse when he spotted her unconscious self on the floor wit a small pool of blood by her head.

" Annan! Fuck! Hold on," he said frantically , and busted the window out. Sherlock heeded john's panic and started in on the locks, a small flash of worry in his eyes. Once they were both inside John rushed to Annan's side and picked her up.

" Annan, dear god . What's happened to you," john whispered harshly as he brushed some silvery hair from her face and noted that she was soaked through to the bone and shivering.

" Sherlock we need to get her to Baker street," John said. They gathered some of her warmer blankets and wrapped her up tightly before they hurried down stairs to their waiting cab. The trip to Baker street was quiet and tense for all the shortness off it. John stroked silver hair hoping to offer some kind of comfort to the unconscious girl. Sherlock was watching them and promised himself that he would find out who had hurt John's surrogate sister this way.

When they arrived at 221B , it was Mrs. Hudson who tore open the door, seeing john carrying the girl from her front window. Sherlock was busy deducing , trying to figure out what had happened to their friend.

" John do you know the name of the ex-boyfriend," Sherlock asked as they settled the sleeping Annan on their couch.

" Ex," John questioned.

" Yes Ex. He left her little more than 2 hours ago," Sherlock answered.

" No, she wouldn't tell me his name. Said he needed to keep her a secret cause he had dangerous enemies," John explained.

Sherlock weighed the pros and cons of searching her phone before he decided that he needed to know more than she needed her privacy. He searched her pockets and found her phone lying undisturbed in her pocket. He figured out her pass code in record time and dismissed all the missed calls from himself and John before going through her messages. Anger coursed through him and he through her phone against the wall causing it to shatter.

" Sherlock what the hell," John exclaimed.

" Mycroft," Sherlock hissed.

" What,' John gasped.

" She was dating Mycroft. He left her, ended their relationship and left her alone in the rain at Regent's park. She made it home before she collapsed and hit her head on the entertainment center. She was crying, see the tear tracks on her cheeks? And he mud on her shoes is comprised of dirt and detritus found most commonly in Regent's park. Her phone has several conversation between her and my brother and the latest one mentioned their six month anniversary. He left her ," Sherlock explained.

John looked surprised for half a second before anger overtook his features and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

" Sherlock, if I see your brother, I'm going to kill him," John said harshly.

" Don't be boring John, we can't kill him. We can make his life miserable though," Sherlock said with malicious glee.

Sherlock wasn't as close to Annan as he was to John. She was very much like the doctor and very much different. She was funny and intelligent like John but unlike him she never got frustrated with him nor did she fuss about the body parts in the fridge. He considered her a friend and he protected his friends. With the agreement of vengeance on Mycroft Sherlock snapped up his phone and sent his brother a curt message.

# I'd Stay away from here brother mine. John may try to kill you. I may as well –SH#

# What have I done –MH# was the near instant reply.

# Your little goldfish is John's surrogate sister. His best friend since childhood –SH#

He received no reply but he knew Mycroft would heed his warning. With that done he settled into his chair and began to plan as he waited for the next case . Moriarty wasn't done yet, he knew it. The mad genius had all but promised that he wouldn't stop until either Sherlock or himself were dead. The two spent the night in a tense silence. Each worried over want would happen when Annan woke, and planning their vengeance against the one who had harmed her. They worried for naught as she slept through the night and on until morning.

Annan opened her eyes and hissed both at the brightness of the day and the throbbing pain in her skull. Once she cleared her vision she found herself in a familiar flat. She questioned how she got to Johns and Sherlock's until she remembered the events of the previous day. She knew she had collapsed and she guessed John had tried to call or had stopped by and found her. Speaking of John, she could hear him in the kitchen likely making tea. With a sad sniffle she trudged her way into the kitchen, passing Sherlock who was messing with some fingers and what appeared to be red wine vinegar. She ended up in a strong hug as John noticed her walk up behind him.

" Thank god, your awake. Good morning, would you like some tea," he said softly. She gave a shaky nod and sat at the opposite end of the table from Sherlock, careful not to jostle the table or the chemical's he had in hand.

" I know it was Mycroft. I only want to know how you want him punished," Sherlock said, not looking up from his fingers.

" I don't" she sighed, " I knew what would happen. I'm not smart enough or pretty enough to charm his fickle love to myself. I have only my cunning and it would never have been enough to entice him to my side forever. I will grieve him and then I will move on with the knowledge that for a time at least he was mine."

John hugged her tight after he put her cup of tea down in front of her. She sipped lightly at it and relaxed into its warmth, the comfort of her surrogate older brother and his best friend. A few stray tears trailed down her cheeks as she remembered some of her tea times with Mycroft. If she was honest with herself , she had known this was coming. Even if she had been desperate to ignore it she had known that his flighty heart and wild nature was pulling him away from here for the past few weeks. He'd made no outward sign of the growing distance between them, but Annan knew people in ways they didn't even know themselves and she had seen his will to fly free growing stronger and stronger. She had simply hoped that he would chose to stay with her.

" I can't change your mind little sister, but he will pay for what he did to you," John said.

" I agree with John, Mycroft will not be getting away with this," Sherlock said from his seat as he added what looked to be bleach to the vinegar solution.

Annan only looked down at the table, knowing she couldn't change their minds.

It was two days later that Lestrade came over with a case , only to find John trying to console a weeping girl in the window as Sherlock moved a box full of random things into the closet.

' I was hoping he'd at least keep those cuff links. I had them made for him, back when we were still just friends. I had commented on his birthday and he admitted that he hadn't gotten any thing for his birthday since he was young. It took me forever to save up for them but I did it. Just like that pocket watch I gave you before you left," the girl said through her tears.

" I still have that watch, it saved my life. Stopped a bullet entering my heart," John said.

" Guys, you have time for a case," Lestrade asked.

" Greg when did you get here," John asked, moving Annan behind him so Lestrade wouldn't see her crying.

" Just a few minutes ago, I have a case for you Sherlock, we think it maybe Moriarty," Lestrade said. No one was able to ignore the sharp cry that came from Annan when she heard that name.


End file.
